The bonds that tie us
by Lost timemachine
Summary: Iceland is beaten up by Russia for not permitting him to use Iceland's sea and airports as he pleases. The wounded Iceland seeks cover at Finland s and Sweden s house.


The Bonds that tie us

Disclamer: I don´t own Hetalia .I make no profit from this. Please don´t sue.

Footfalls echo in the memory  
Down the passage which we did not take  
Towards the door we never opened  
~T.S. Eliot

Russia observed Iceland´s face for a long time while sitting leisurely in Iceland´s favorite chair. The kitchen was small, but it was full of colorful vases and patterned oven mitts.

„I will fix this economical issue you are suffering from, Iceland, Russia said as he raised the mug to his lips and sipped the coffee. His voice was bright and friendly. Iceland did not respond, keeping his eyes locked on the other nation. "In return you will give me permission to use your airports as I wish" Russia continued, noticing that despite the fact that Iceland´s cold expression had not budged his eyes were ablaze. The tiniest smirk formed on Russia´s lips, he had done this before. "In addition, Russia said slowly, emphasizing each world, you will give me complete control over your seas. I will use them as I please." Iceland stood up, momentarily taller than the other nation, his face deadly pale with tiny spots of pink high on his cheekbones. His eyes burned, and Russia was reminded that Iceland had once, a long time ago, been a fearsome Viking. Not that it mattered, he was small and defenseless now, Russia thought, as looked around the kitchen.

"No" Iceland said calmly, "You shall not have my sea nor my sky" he continued and watched Russia´s expression darken and felt his heart beat faster in his chest. His knees felt a bit wobbly, but he straightened them angrily, this was no time for cowardice. "I will pay back my loan as soon as I can, and I bear no ill will –"Iceland´s voice came to a halt when he saw what Russia was holding in his hand. It was a piggy bank, it had Iceland´s name on it in large childish letters. The piggy bank had been hidden under his cotton shirts, the ones he had worn as a child when Norway had still ruled over him. Had Russia been rummaging around in his closet? He knew that Russia was going to secretly spy on America and Canada, and would eventually take over his country.

"I will take this, Snowland, as your first payment" Russia said, taking delight in watching Iceland´s hands shake in anger. Suddenly Russia grabbed Iceland by his shoulders and sent him flying through the air. The smaller nation hit the wall face first and landed on the living room floor in a heap. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he attempted to rise to his feet only to be kicked in the stomach by Russia. "Leave!" Iceland shouted, as he tried to fight back, but his punches did not seem to affect Russia at all. Iceland gasped for air, knowing full well that Russia was much stronger than him. The Icelandic boy could feel blood trickling slowly down his hands hand back. Russia did not leave until Iceland could not move any longer, until every fiber of his being begged, screamed to be spared. After a while Iceland could hear Russia slam the door shut, the sound of gravel being crushed under the soles of the tall man´s shoes. Iceland curled into a ball on the floor of his living room, which was now covered with blood. Hot shame filled him, and he could feel tears that threatened to slip from underneath his eyelids. _Why could he never handle anything by himself?_

Iceland dragged himself up on an old, faded leather armchair. England had left it behind when he had gone back home after staying briefly in the Second World War. He limped slowly to his bathroom and rinsed the wounds he could reach, the cold water stung against his bruises. He put on some band-aids and wrapped what he could, and then he put on a fresh shirt and a nice, soft sweater. All of this was done at a painstakingly slow rate. He pulled his jacket closer to his neck as he stepped into the cold air, and smelled the sweet aroma of Mountain avens.

Tino dumped the freshly picked blueberries in a large bowl and began busing himself with mixing sugar and eggs together while humming cheerfully to himself. Beside him was a vase filled with lily of the valley and linnea. Berwald placed the new chair in the kitchen and watched as Tino stirred the batter together rapidly, smiling softly. The smell of sawdust still clung to the Swedish man, and Tino smiled to himself, Sweden made furniture when he was happy. The dog barked loudly and whined at the door, and Tino placed the wooden spoon on the counter and headed for the door, taking off the striped apron and placing it on a hook in the foyer. On the doorstep was a blood-soaked silver haired boy with large violet eyes. Tino instantly pulled Iceland inside, his eyes large and concerned. Tino could see, in the dim light of the terrace lamp, the horribly shameful expression on Iceland´s face. The Finnish man wordlessly led the smaller nation upstairs and into the guest bathroom, where he put his old blue pajamas. Iceland felt the warm water soothe his aching muscles and clean off the blood and dirt that had clung on to his skin. As he stepped out of the bathroom he bumped into Berwald. The Swedish man had stood outside the room, waiting for him. "Who´s harm´d ya?" said Sweden gruffly, and Iceland looked up at Berwald´s face. Iceland felt a pang of fear as his violet eyes met Berwald´s ice blue ones. However he shook his head violently as if he was trying to get water out of his ears. All he achieved was that his headache became even worse. Berwald stared silently at him, towering over the wounded boy. "Russia wanted to have my sea and sky so he could use them for his own good" Iceland breathed, his voice hoarse as he remembered the creepy smile of the Russian man as he explained his plan. "You said no" Berwald said as he pushed Iceland into the guest bedroom. The bedroom was painted white, with a large bed in the corner with a green comforter. Beside the bed was a nightstand made of birch and on the floor was a soft carpet. Iceland nodded and sat down on the bed, his expression thankful and he opened his mouth to say that he was sorry to trouble them, but Berwald stopped him. "G´night Ice, m´wife´ll come upstairs and check on ya soon". Berwald then flicked the light switch and the room when dark. "Goodnight Berwald" Iceland said warmly to the already closed door, hoping that he was heard.

The fire in the fireplace lit up the small living room, and Tino was bathed in the glow of the light as he sat on the large couch. He looked up when he saw Berwald enter and stroked the small dog´s head slowly. "Why do you think he came to see us, Berwald?" Tino said as Berwald sat down beside him. Berwald was silent for a moment. Suddenly it occurred to Tino how silent the house was with Sealand gone to visit England. "Norway upset him, ´n Denmark´s not always nice to him. An´ we´ve never hurt ´im." Berwald glanced at Tino as the Finnish man stared into the fire, humming an old Finnish lullaby softly to himself. Tino could see, in his mind´s eye how Norway and Denmark would have reacted if they had seen Iceland in the state he had been as he stood on Tino and Berwald´s house. Denmark would have rushed him inside, too harshly and laughed with a smidge of pride that Iceland had dared to stand up to the scary Russian, oh my how he had grown up! And the Dane would have memorized, waving his hands as he grandly told Iceland of the time when he had ruled over the silver haired boy, and then wrapped him in some bandages. Iceland would eventually get enough and switch from his old-fashioned, slightly childish Danish to Icelandic. Norway would have freaked out, at least on the inside. Tino was snapped out of his thoughts as Berwald put a blanket over the Finnish man´s shoulders. Tino drifted off to sleep, and Berwald took him in his arms and carried him to the bed. Berwald looked outside the window, looking terrifying as he cursed the Russian inwardly and went to sleep.

Iceland was in the hazy wonderland between dream and reality. His thoughts were fuzzy and the warm eiderdown was very comfortable and the perfect temperature. On the wall facing him was a picture of a boat. It was not an elaborate painting, it was a drawing of a yellow boat with white sails, the ocean a wonderful bright blue. Iceland can almost hear the sound of the waves, a sound he and all the Nordics keep close to their hearts. The color of the sky reminds him of Norway. Norway had appeared one day in Iceland´s garden, among the trees and flowers.

Iceland had refused, when Norway had asked him, ever so gently, if he wanted to come back. If he wanted to unite. Iceland reflected on the cold that had come with the Danish and the Norwegian rules. They had walked over the meadow, as they had done countless times before, Norway´s ribbon flying in the breeze, and the grass tickling their bare feet. But Iceland´s heart screamed; yes, yes, please take me back to the smell of moss, crisp cold air of a snowy morning, to the fjords and snow covered mountains, protect me as you did before, big brother! Because in his heart, Iceland could still feel the cotton of his shirt gently touching his ankles as Norway played with him on that field all those years ago. He could still feel the sense of being protected; he could still see the soft, loving expression on Norway´s face, framed with blonde hair. But he let Norway down gently, and Norway had placed his hand on Iceland´s shoulder, his expression sad. _You were mine once, little brother._

Author´s notes: Russia asked Iceland to have permission to use Iceland´s airport in the Sencond World War. Iceland refused, much to the delight of other nations.

Mountain avens is the national flower of Iceland. Snowland is a former name of Iceland´s. First it was called Garðarshólmi, then Snowland and then finally Iceland. Lily of the valley is Finland´s national flower and linnea is Sweden´s.

Norway did offer to unite with Iceland recently.


End file.
